Title – Chains of Horror
Author name – Irishlassie101 & TKOLove
Email Adress – postingkittens@hotmail.com
Rating – PG-17 for angst and language.
Disclaimer – All characters belong to Joss Whedon and ME. (Not that they deserve it.)
Feedback – Please don’t hesitate to give us feedback, positive or negative.
Note from Irishlassie – My special thanks goes to the best beta I could have possibly come across, TKOLove.
It was her wonderful feedback that turned a rather clumsy fic into something precious and wonderful (this, of course, is my own very biased opinion). Without her help and devotion this story would never have been posted!
Note from TKOLove – This fic is irishlassie’s brainchild and it was a privilege to work with her on it. I hope you all enjoy reading her story as much as I enjoyed collaborating on it.
Summary – This story is set after the battle on the Hellmouth was won in season 7, with some alterations: Sunnydale was not destroyed, Anya is not dead
Note – Italicized sentences represent a character’s thoughts.
Chapter One
By all accounts, Willow Rosenberg had gone virtually insane following the death of her lover and soul mate, Tara Maclay. Deeper than the dark path the redheaded witch had chosen to travel, and far beyond the indescribable things she’d done and wanted to do – underneath all of it – there existed a wounded woman who’d suffered a loss so profound that it tore at her soul and left her to live alone in a world she’d found suddenly lacking in color, taste, texture, passion, and beauty. It was all just…gone. What remained for Willow was a poisoned plane of existence, tainted with agony and scarred by senseless forfeiture. She had unwillingly given up a part of herself…the best part of herself, and it was utterly unbearable. Tara was one half of Willow’s soul, and the gentle blonde had been taken without reason.
After returning from the abyss of disorientation and confusion that had enveloped her during her use of dark magick, Willow had to face the heartbreaking, sobering truth – she would never be close to Tara again. Never hear her laugh, never touch her, smell her, feel her, tell her…
Willow felt, no...knew, that her life would forever be a shadow of its former potential. Nothing her well-meaning friends could say or do could bring her any light, comfort, or hope. Nothing.
**********
“Tara? Oh my god! Tara! Baby, NO! Somebody, help...HELP ME!”
The voice that was so familiar to the blonde witch started to fade and finally died away.
She’d felt the pain and darkness surround her and she was pulled away from...something. She could no longer remember exactly what.
Tara was surrounded with the pure essence of peace and bliss.
A voice was heard, melodious and graceful.
“Tara Maclay, this is where you belong. This is the place where you will enjoy eternal happiness.”
Something continued to shift inside her. In this place she was flooded with feelings of serenity that washed away all other thoughts. All that remained was the absolute knowledge that after a life filled with grief and sorrow she’d now be safe and happy for eternity. The memories of her mortal life moved farther away and gradually faded just as the voice had earlier.
***************
The funeral was a nightmare for everybody.
The intelligent, vivacious, gorgeous, and generous Tara Maclay was buried on a cold rainy afternoon, and it seemed as though many worlds were buried with her.
The world of Dawn Summers, who lost a mother for the second time.
The world of Buffy Summers, who lost her main ally in keeping the gang together.
The world of Rupert Giles, who lost a beloved surrogate daughter.
The world of Anya Jenkins, who lost the best friend she’d had in a millennium.
The world of Xander Harris, who lost an invaluable friend who understood his fears and nightmares.
And the world of Willow Rosenberg, who lost her soul mate. The love of her life. Her everything. Herself.
The ceremony was kept short and simple, as no one could face the horror of seeing the remains of the blonde witch lowered into her grave.
The short drive home seemed to be the most wrong thing they ever did; they went home and left Tara all alone in her cold, wet grave. The gang was paralyzed. No one was capable of clear thought. All minds were simply avoiding the unthinkable, that Tara was gone for ever. Willow Rosenberg was gone as well. Not in a physical sense. Her body was present, but as if on auto-pilot, guiding itself to the bedroom, bathroom, kitchen, or garden. Her mind was black and silent. No genius thinking, no babbling, just pure nothing. A hull with dead eyes.
****************
Tara Maclay, Wiccan, was in another dimension. It was what some who follow other religions might call “heaven,” and no matter what name it carried, it was the place where she deserved to be. After all she had achieved, experienced, and suffered in her relatively short life she had a right to be there.
And the voice that never ceased telling her she belonged there...that voice made it all seem perfect. But there was something the voice couldn’t achieve. It couldn’t manage to fill the feeling of emptiness in Tara’s soul. The feeling that there was something important that left her memory but that could never truly be forgotten. The louder and more demanding the voice grew, the stronger these feelings got.
After a short while these feelings started to interfere with the voice, and it started to fade until it was only a whisper. And suddenly it was gone.
This wasn’t possible, simply couldn’t happen. It was the voice that kept everything in its place in this realm. It was the collective voice of the Powers That Be.
But there was another sound instead, growing stronger just as the original voice faded away. It was a sweet and familiar voice.
“Tara. Tara, wake up. Tara, your time has not yet come. You’re not meant to be here. Tara...Tara...fight.”
“Mama?”
****************
Buffy Summers sat at the kitchen table and stared into her mug of coffee. She tried to pull herself together to get a few things done around the house and stay tuned in to all the newest happenings in Sunnydale. After all, she was the Slayer and it was her job to help, to save, to make sure things were right. She’d done so on countless occasions, fighting against vampires, monsters, demons, and even gods. But this time things were different. This time her Slayer powers were of no help. Now it was just Buffy Summers, tired, traumatized and alone against hell itself, over and over again.
Every morning for the past few weeks she was awakened at around 6 AM either by Willow screaming for Tara in her dreams or by the readhead´s hysteric crying when she woke up and remembered her loss.
After that she usually crossed paths with Dawn. Pale as a wall and with red-rimmed eyes, the younger Summers sister would stumble past Buffy on her way to the bathroom or kitchen, never saying a word.
Xander and Anya would drop in for a little chat or a bite to eat before heading off for work, but usually neither could hold back their tears.
It’s nice of them to come over and check to see that we’re ok, but seeing them cry is no help at all, she caught herself thinking, and immediately felt bad about wishing her friends wouldn’t come over.
Later, when Willow had eaten and showered and Dawn was off to school, Buffy would either lock herself in the basement and yell, cry and smash her fists against the concrete walls staining them with her blood, or barely make it to the bathroom in time for her stomach to relieve itself of its sparse contents. Frankly, she considered herself lucky if her day included just one of those activities. Unfortunately, those “not so bad” days were practically non-existent.
***************
The Powers That Be were facing the unthinkable; a soul that was accepted into a heavenly dimension had started to regain its consciousness. And this was no ordinary soul. There was something very wrong with the presence of this particular soul in this realm.
The death of the blonde Wiccan was not an ordinary passing of a soul into the afterlife. It was different. It had more of an affect on the world than could be seen by any mortal, any demon, or any god. This death had been unforeseen by the Powers That Be, which was disturbing for eternal, almighty beings who were content in their belief of absolute control over energy, space, and time. They discovered that this soul was capable of resisting their means of control and order. It was powerful, more powerful than was acceptable, so the Powers That Be decided to take action.
The soul that once was Tara Maclay was called to appear before the gods themselves to end this ridiculous resistance of the most precious gift of all – eternal life in heaven. They would appear with all the pomp and circumstance they could muster, and the soul would never again dare to question their reign. But they had to be careful; this being was powerful, very powerful. Powerful even beyond – no, surely nothing could be beyond the might and glory of the Powers That Be.
This was their plan...and it failed miserably.
Not only did this soul resist their commands and gain back the memories of its mortal life, it stood up against them and demanded to be sent back.
“Send me back, I beg of you.”
“NO...this cannot be done.”
“Send me back, I demand it.”
“NO...this cannot be done.”
“SEND. ME. BACK. Or you’ll be sorry for bringing me here.”
“How dare you threaten us? How dare you?”
“I won’t merely threaten you. I’ll destroy you.”
“Insolent being, you don’t know what powers we can unleash upon you. We are Everything, we are Time, and we are Energy. We command and you will obey.”
With that they unleashed enough power to destroy even the most powerful soul. But this soul was not destroyed. Instead, it sent its own powers against the attack.
The powers collided and the result was the equivalent of a hell broken loose. The unspeakable had happened; the balance of energy that comprised everything – even the Powers That Be themselves – was torn apart.
Suddenly everything stood still and quiet. Time itself had stopped.
“Stop this or we will all be destroyed!”
“Why should I? There’s nothing for me in this place.”
“This is a heavenly dimension, impertinent soul, what more can there be?”
“This is hell for me. My place is with my love.”
“Love? Love…such a trivial thing to cling to.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, or you’d never say such a thing. My power is pure and grows stronger by the love I have in my heart. It’s a power based in light, but I can and will destroy you and your dimension if you don’t send me back right now. I have to go back to her.”
There was still no positive response, and a beat later the Powers That Be were hit by an attack they knew they couldn’t resist for long. Nothing they could wield would stop the wrath of the soul that once was Tara Maclay.
“STOP! We beg you…stop! You shall receive what you demand!”
“Send me back now. Let no one remember my death. Let me live in peace with the woman I love and with my friends. Don’t deceive me or I will show no mercy.”
“You shall be sent back to the ones you love, but they and only they will remember your demise.”
“No. They can’t go through the pain. It’s not right!”
“This is what we offer you. This or nothing.”
“Then let it be.”
And it was.
************************
Buffy was out on patrol as usual. She hadn’t yet dropped the habit. It was peaceful and quiet in Sunnydale. No vampires, no demons, just a peaceful night in a peaceful little town.
She was on her way home when she passed the graveyard, and tears instantly rushed into her eyes. Two months, she thought. Two months since Tara died. Two months of hell for all of us. She entered the graveyard and was on full alert. Over the past years of her life a graveyard at night had come to mean fighting, getting hurt, getting her clothes dirty, and ruining her makeup.
She approached the grave of the woman whom the gang missed so desperately. She wiped the tears from her face and knelt down to rearrange the flowers.
Tara, why did it have to be you? Why didn’t they take me? I was pulled out of heaven and brought back into this hell to fight alongside my friends...and yet be alone. I could have gone back. But you? You had a life, a real life full of love and passion.
So many times she wished the bullet had killed her and not Tara, but fate decided otherwise.
Oh dear god, let her be in heaven. Let her be happy. Let her see what I saw. Let her feel what I felt.
With her fingers she traced the golden letters on the cold stone, and suddenly her stomach turned. She felt a sharp pain in her skull, saw flashes of light in front of her eyes, and collapsed on the grass beside the grave.
Buffy felt like she was being pushed through a thick chunk of Jell-O, hardly able to move...then suddenly everything was back to normal.
“What the hell was that?” she said loudly. “I thought Sunnydale was back to normal, or at least normal-ish.”
She checked the surrounding area, and to her great relief, everything seemed unchanged. Before heading home she stepped back to Tara’s grave, knelt down once more, and traced the letters once more with her fingers.
“Here lies Elisabeth Stanton, beloved wife and mother,” she read aloud as she distractedly got back to her feet. “Goodbye, Elisabeth. I’ll be back soon.” The words had barely passed her lips before Buffy gasped and let out a squeal.
Elisabeth Stanton? Who the fuck is Elisabeth Stanton? Way to go, Buffy…weeping over the wrong grave.
The Slayer cautiously looked around. It was clear that she hadn’t visited the wrong site. This was Tara’s grave under the big oak tree. It was the right spot.
“No. Oh man, please don’t let this start all over again!” She turned around to race home and alert the other Scoobies.
But after just a few steps she froze. Her eyes had scanned something very disturbing. A little flame was dancing in mid-air, growing, getting stronger, taking the shape of a human being. Then…a blinding flash of incredible white flames and light.
Where the flames had been just seconds ago stood a figure in full moonlight. A young woman. A young woman who looked like Tara Maclay.
For a few seconds Buffy just stood with her mouth open, but she was the Slayer, the Chosen One, and her training quickly kicked in. She allowed reality to clear her mind and anger to take over her body. She then shook her head clear and dashed the glimmer of hope her heart held.
“Ok demon scum, you picked the worst possible disguise and your sense of irony is not appreciated here. This is so not funny…you’re not even gonna have time to look back and enjoy the trip here!” Buffy shouted as she leaped on top of the being. The slayer threw the “demon” onto its back, got Mr. Pointy out in a flash, and reared back to thrust it clean through the creature.
But before she could unleash her attack, something struck the Slayer; a rush of sensations once so familiar to her. The most powerful of which was a feeling she’d only ever gotten when things had gone very wrong and she was being comforted by a certain blonde Wiccan with a heart of gold.
“Buffy! No! Please...it’s me...Buffy, it’s me, Tara!”
She let the stake drop from her shaking hand, and paused to bring her gaze straight to a set of blue, frightened, confused, but still so familiar eyes.
“T-Tara?” she stammered. “Tara...is that you? Is it really you? How…? What the...? But who...?”
“Buffy, it’s me. It’s Tara…it’s really me. I’m here, I’m right here.”
“Tara,” was all Buffy managed to say before her voice failed. She fell to her knees, hugged the girl who was still lying on the ground, and started to cry hysterically.
They sat there for a long moment, crying, equally confused and scared. Buffy finally regained her power of speech.
“Tara, how is this possible? Who did this? Will you be able to stay? Do you have to go back again?”
“I was sent back because my place is right here with you, with the gang, and with Willow...oh my god...Willow.” More tears rushed down the blonde’s cheeks. “Willow. My Willow...how is she Buffy? H-how is she?”
By the way Buffy looked at her Tara instantly knew that things were not good. Not good at all.
“She nearly went crazy after you died,” Buffy blurted without censoring herself. “She almost brought the world to an end.” Even as she said the words, Buffy cursed her stupidity at revealing so much.
“I know what she did, Buffy,” Tara said with a very low voice. “I know what she tried to do. I know she killed Warren and wanted to end the world. But how is she now? How bad is it?”
Buffy stared in awe at the girl sitting in front of her. “How can you know that? Tara, you were dead!”
“Yes, I was,” Tara replied. “I...I...I don’t know why I know, but I do. I didn’t see it; I somehow felt it when I was in the other dimension.”
“Oh my god, Tara,” Buffy whispered. More tears washed down her face as she continued, “You were there, in that place. You experienced all that wonderful... It’s…it’s just so cruel.”
Tara smiled for the first time. “Buffy, it was a blissful place, and I know you’ve been there, too. Or someplace like it. The difference is that my only thought was to get back here, back to Willow, back to all of you.”
For Buffy, Tara’s words brought back memories of the promise of eternal peace and bliss, and the Slayer winced slightly as a sigh escaped her lips.
It took Buffy a moment to clear her mind of those thoughts. She got up on her feet, never letting go of the girl in front of her.
“Come on Tara, we have to get you home. Oh man…wait. You can’t exactly just walk through the door and say ‘Hey guys, I’m back.’”
“Oh. Y-yeah. You’re right. It might scare a few people,” said Tara and smiled again. “We’ll have to think of something more practical.”
************************
When Buffy and Tara arrived at the Summers’ house they still didn’t have a clue how to “introduce” Tara.
For some reason the whole gang was there and awake, despite the early hour.
“Just wait here. I’ll think of something,” Buffy said as she opened the door and stepped inside.
“Hey sis,” Dawn called from the living room. “How was patrol? Any demons afoot?”
“Nope, no demons, definitely no demons. Afoot or ahand,” Buffy replied distractedly.
She found Dawn, Xander, and Anya in front of the television watching “Against All Odds,” and she stepped over to the TV and switched it off.
“Hey Buff, what the heck?” Xander exclaimed. “We kinda wanted to see the end of the movie, too, ya know? Sorta brings the whole beginning and middle together in a nice, pretty, chronological package.”
“Guys,” Buffy said with the most serious voice she could produce, “uhm, guys, I have to tell you something.”
“Oh my god! What happened? Were you attacked? Did the demons come back?” Dawn squealed and jumped over to her sister, checking her body for signs of battle damage.
“No, nothing like that,” Buffy answered. She sighed, and realized it would be best to break the news without further delay.
“I met somebody on my patrol,” she said with a very steady voice.
“And that’s the news? That’s why you walked in and interrupted us like that?” Anya asked loudly.
“Hey, Anya, be nice to Buffy. She doesn’t get to meet many guys who aren’t, you know, dead or something,” Xander replied mockingly. “So who is he? Is he good-looking? More importantly, does he have an active pulse?”
Buffy seemed not to hear her friend’s good-natured jab. “I…I…met Tara,” Buffy said with her voice breaking. “I met Tara.”
Silence. Complete and utter silence. Not even the sound of breathing.
“You what? You…met Tara? Buffy, why would you say that? Tara...she...she’s --” Dawn tried to say it but didn’t have the will, or the chance, to complete her sentence.
With her mouth stuck after her last word and her eyes wide open, she stared in the direction of the door.
“Dawnie, it’s me,” a soothing voice sounded from the doorway.
Anya and Xander, who were facing the opposite wall, turned around as if in a trance. Xander recognized the voice instantly, as did his girlfriend.
There in the doorway stood Tara. Alive...breathing...talking.
Dawn was the first to react. She leaped from her seat, jumped over the sofa that Xander and Anya were sitting on, and landed right in the arms of the woman who’d been nothing less than a mother to her before she died. She was unable to speak or even cry. She could only wrap her arms around the blonde woman and squeeze her as tightly as she could. Seconds later, Xander and Anya joined her. Still, not one word was spoken.
“Hey guys. What’s with all the noise? I was trying to get some sleep,” Willow said with a pout while descending the staircase. She went around the corner, stepped into the living room, and stopped suddenly, as if bound by an electrical force. She saw Xander, Anya, Dawn, Buffy and...Tara?
Tara? Tara’s...dead. She can never come back to me. She’s right here, but she’s gone. This isn’t real. Or maybe...
Without making a sound, Willow simply collapsed on the spot she was standing before anyone could reach her.
*******
When Willow woke she was in her bed, with Buffy and Anya sitting at her side, each wearing a worried look.
“Hey Will, how are you feeling?” Buffy asked.
“Oh, mmmh, I don’t know. I had one of my dreams again. You know, Tara being alive and such,” she said as tears shot to her eyes. “I hate it, I just hate it. Every time I close my eyes I see her and...and...god, I mean I love seeing her, but...but I can’t stand the pain.”
Buffy and Anya exchanged a look. Anya nodded, got up, and walked to the door. She opened it and signaled someone to come in.
“No, I don’t want to see anybody, guys. I’m hardly good company right now and I really don’t want to -- Tara?”
Willow was staring at the figure at the door. Tara! Oh my god. Can this…is this real?
“Wi-Willow,” was all Tara could stammer before rushing to the bed and into the arms of the woman she loved more than her own life. She then found her voice again in the form of a whisper.
“Willow. My Willow. Sweetie, I’m here. I’m back, and I’ll never leave you again. No power will ever separate us again.”
**********
It took the gang a few days to realize what had happened and to accept that somebody or something had granted them such an incredible gift. Naturally they wanted to know exactly what had happened and how Tara managed to come back and why, but the blonde witch didn’t offer an abundance of useful information. It seemed a bit odd to her friends and made them a little uneasy, but the joy of having Tara back in their lives soon made them forget the “why” and “how” of it all. Only to Willow would she be a little more open, revealing a few details.
“I was on another plane, in another reality, and I met my mother,” Tara started. She silenced Willow instantly with her fingers gently pressed against the redhead’s mouth. “Sweetie, before you ask, yes, it was beautiful and peaceful, but I didn’t want to stay there if it meant being without you. And I was not meant to die, so I was sent back...to you...for good."
But Willow could feel that there was something else, something that Tara couldn’t tell. Or perhaps didn’t want to. In her mind the redhead placed a mental bookmark to bring it up again when things were, for lack of a better phrase, back to normal.
Several days later Willow lay awake in bed. She’d hardly slept those last few nights, forcing herself to stay awake and watch her beautiful girlfriend sleep soundly beside her.
Tara. My Tara...my life...my everything.
By the grace of the gods and goddesses, and for some as yet unknown reasons, Willow’s reason for living – her Tara, beautiful, radiant Tara – was brought back to her. And she was not merely brought back; the deities had the wisdom to create a temporal fold to in effect alter the timeline so that no one other than Willow and the Scoobies could actually remember Tara’s death and funeral.
It would have been a little tough to explain the return of a dead woman. Although it is Sunnydale and dead people come back all the time…but usually as vampires…and my Tara is no blood-sucking fiend. Hmm…I suppose we could have introduced her as Tara’s twin sister, just like in the movies. Jeez, that’s cheesy, even for the Hellmouth. Besides, none of that matters. My goddess! She’s back...she’s really back. I still can’t believe it. Willow’s mind continued to reel as she watched Tara sleeping beside her.
The redhead desperately wanted to cuddle up next to the dozing woman whom she loved more than anything or anyone else, but she hesitated.
Maybe I’m only dreaming…again. A glorious dream. She’s right here beside me. Filling my senses. With all that I am, I want her...I want to touch her. But if I reach out and she’s not there, it’ll be more like a nightmare. I’d rather never wake up. Willow let her mind relax, content just to feel her lover’s warmth beside her. She smiled and fell asleep, fading out before she could feel the blonde beauty start to twitch and shiver slightly from head to toe.
********
“NO! NO...please don’t! Dad please don’t!”
CRACK - Her father’s leather belt struck her, sending soaring pain through Tara’s body.
CRACK - Again, this time even worse.
CRACK - CRACK - CRACK
Tara scrambled to her feet, frantically trying to get away from her father. Her body aching, she ran trough the entrance hall of the house she grew up in – a house that had been filled with happy moments when her mother was still alive, but now only held the memories of pain, anguish, mistrust, and…abuse.
But she wasn’t fast enough. She could sense hands reaching out for her, trying to grab her, hold her down, hurt her.
“Tara, come back to me,” she heard. “Tara, come back. TARA…COME BACK!” she heard the voice and felt hands touching her body.
“No…not again…not this time…” Tara said to herself as she summoned her strength and used her arms to push the offending figure away.
Tara saw an enormous flash of light and heard the scream – a loud, piercing scream.
I did it! I got away from him. No more, Dad. Not. This. Time.
The voice stopped screaming but made sounds of absolute pain – a whimpering testament to sheer suffering.
Good, it serves him right, Tara thought. He should suffer just the way Mom did. The way I did.
Tara smiled in her sleep. Normally, of course the gentle Wiccan would abhor the idea of making another person suffer, but for years she’d seen the horrible things this man had done to her mother, and that – far and above the pain she herself had suffered – is what fuelled Tara’s rage. Still, as she began to wake, she was immediately happy and relieved to know that at least in her dreams she had turned some of that pain back onto its originator. But her mind began to clear and she shivered again as a sudden, indescribable feeling overwhelmed her. Something was wrong. She was still hearing the voice cry out in pain…but how?
The voice…that’s not Dad. It’s…oh, goddess no! It’s…
“W-WWILLLLOOOWWWW!”
Edited by: Irishlassie101 and TKOlove at: 7/22/04 12:21 pm
BWR 
your fic and I have to say I really love it!! 
was the story amazing till now. I even shed tears damn u two *sniff* and again amazing story, cant wait for the next update. And Willow "just" dreamed, right *frowns* i mean Tara will wake her up and cuddle her etc and everything will be ok??
this is too scary. a cop? 
was that doctor thinking?well that was a CLOSE CALL.OHMYGOD...WILLOW`S INJURIES ARE